Hands
by The Marauder Named Prongs
Summary: Dean likes to work on the Impala in the bunker's garage. Cas likes to watch him. Basically Destiel smut.


Castiel likes to join Dean on his late-night jaunts to the bunker's garage to work on the Impala. They share beers while Dean tinkers with the car and Cas watches. Cas can't offer any help, but Dean doesn't seem to mind, with his easy smiles and quiet conversation.

Cas usually arrives after Dean is already set up. He is changing the Impala's oil, which Castiel only knows because Dean mentioned to him earlier that day that it needed to be done in preparation for a case he and Sam would be investigating in another state.

Cas observes Dean at work silently for several minutes, before popping the tab on the beer he'd brought with him. Dean lifts his head at the noise, turning away from the Impala with a grin.

"Hey, Cas," he says, wiping his hands on a dirty rag. Cas smiles in return, tilting the beer can up to his lips, swallowing quickly, before handing it over to Dean. Dean's smile warms with fondness as he takes the can and drinks the cheap alcohol down.

He returns the half-empty container to Cas before turning back to the Impala's innards. Cas assumes he is filling her with new oil, though he doesn't know much of anything about cars.

He watches quietly, sipping his beer and studying the muscles of Dean's back and arms as they arch and stretch beneath his skin. His gaze is drawn to Dean's hands. Cas knows their strength – has seen them kill. Yet, they fascinate him with their expertise and gentle care as they move about inside the Impala.

"You have very deft fingers, Dean," he says in his graveled voice as he cracks open a second beer and nudges the cold can against Dean's bare arm.

Dean back stiffens where he's bent under the hood. He turns a confused face in Cas' direction, focuses on the beer in his outstretched arm and makes a grab for it. Cas pulls the can back sharply, using his free hand to catch Dean's palm. He pulls Dean's fingers up to his face, looking at them intently.

"I never really took the time to notice before," Cas murmurs, as he runs Dean's fingers through his hand, examining each digit individually with both sight and touch.

Cas places the beer can down on the hood of the Impala, devoting both hands to the exploration of Dean's hand and arm. "You have very attractive arms," he says, as though he's performing some sort of maintenance check. He keeps one hand firmly wrapped around Dean's wrist while the fingers of his other glide over Dean's forearm, to climb the muscles of his bicep.

"Cas," he hears Dean say weakly, but he doesn't respond. He simply holds Dean away from him at arms length, scrutinizing him from toe to crown.

"I don't understand," Cas says, truly perplexed. "How could I not have seen how attractive you are when I had my grace?"

Cas meets Dean's gaze, Dean's eyes wide. "Cas, you gotta stop." Dean shrugs out of Cas' grip, moving around to the driver's side of the car.

Cas follows him. "Stop what?" he asks.

"Just – " Dean throws out a hand in Cas' direction. "Just stop talking, dude."

Cas' expression falls, dejected. "I apologize, Dean," he replies softly. He reclaims the beer from the hood of the car, sipping at it as Dean maneuvers back under the Impala's hood. Cas slips out of the garage long before Dean rises from his task.

Dean returns to the garage the following night, a handle of whisky grasped firmly in his fist. He doesn't even bother pretending to work on his baby. He hunkers down in the back seat, swigging the whisky lazily as he tries to figure out what he's going to do about Cas. The tension in the bunker had been tangible, and Dean knew it was his own fault. He avoided Castiel at all costs, even spending some time in the dungeon with Crowley, slinging insults in a failed attempt at catharsis.

He sure as hell hasn't figured out what he's going to do when he hears a soft knock on the window he's leaning against. He looks over his shoulder, sighing heavily as his buzz begins to fade. It's Cas. Of course it's fucking Cas.

Dean clambers out of the car, leaving the whisky under the front seat. He rubs his hand against the back of his neck as he closes the door. "Hey, Cas."

"Hello, Dean."

Cas' face is drawn, his shoulders tense. He looks at Dean carefully. "You're upset with me." It's not a question.

"No," Dean immediately denies. He stops and amends. "Well, not really."

"I said something to upset you," Cas continues. "I would like to apologize."

Dean rolls his head back on his neck, willing the tension out of his body. "Nah, Cas. You don't have to do that," he replies earnestly. He wants to grab his whisky and get the fuck out of this garage, but he doesn't. If Cas wants to talk, he can give him that. "I was just a little freaked out, okay?"

"You are uncomfortable because I find you attractive," Cas clarifies.

Dean's cheeks heat up, but he resists the urge to hide his face in his hands. "Uh, yeah, Cas," he mutters, glancing back over his shoulder into the Impala – to where his whisky is waiting for him.

"I'm sorry, Dean," Cas says earnestly. "This is all very new to me," he continues. "I don't understand human attraction and desire. I did not intend to make you uncomfortable."

Dean smiles, softening at Cas' sincerity. "It's okay, Cas," he replies, clapping a hand against Cas' shoulder. He removes it quickly and shoves his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans.

The whisky buzzes in Dean's head, and he knows he should shut up and cut his losses, but it comes out anyways. "You've got nice hands too, Cas," he says. And it's stupid and he might have even rolled his eyes at himself, but there it is. He reaches across the space between them and pulls Cas' limp wrist into his hands, tracing Cas' fingers with his own. "I like them."

Dean smiles up at the confusion in Cas' face, thinking back to yesterday night – how he'd enjoyed the feel of his hand in Cas', the feel of Cas' fingers skating the length of his arm. He wishes he'd reacted differently.

"Dean – " Cas begins, baffled, his eyes wide with confusion.

"It's okay, Cas," Dean repeats, a lightness spreading through his chest now that he's finally made his decision. "I want to," he continues. "I want –"

Dean doesn't even know how he'd finish that sentence, but he decides not to even try as he drags Cas closer to him, leans down and seals his lips against Cas'. He slips his fingers into Cas' soft hair, tilting his head into the kiss.

He doesn't respond at first, and Dean isn't sure what to do with that because he knows Cas can kiss – he had watched him kiss Meg so thoroughly he thought he was going to lose it. He is suddenly unsure, his lips stuttering against Cas' as he contemplates moving away.

But Cas suddenly responds, enthusiastically and maybe a bit sloppily, but Dean soaks it all in hungrily as he licks his way between Cas' teeth, encouraging Cas' tongue to move with his own.

Dean's hands run the length of Cas' body as Cas gives himself over to Dean's expertise, Dean's fingers and lips pushing and prodding into his skin. Dean parts Cas' legs with his thigh, slotting it firmly against Cas' hardening cock. He licks a trail from Cas' lips to his neck, nipping gently at the sensitive skin at its curve. Then he rocks against Cas, and the pressure and heat that comes with the movement shocks a moan out of him, loud and low. His head falls back against the hood of the car, his eyes wide and staring at the ceiling of the garage as Dean does it again. And again.

And when Cas returns the movement, short and quick and repetitive, Dean has to pause against his neck to collect himself because, Jesus fucking Christ, if this isn't the hottest thing he's ever experienced in his life. He rests his palms against Cas' hips and focuses on the movement of their bodies for several blissful seconds before coming back to himself and reaching for Cas' jeans.

He unbuttons them easily and eases them off of Cas' hips. He presses his fingers under the waistband of his boxers and smooths them down over his ass, delighting in the feel of that firm flesh beneath his fingertips. Cas' cock bobs freely between their bodies as Dean pushes the fabric down Cas' thighs. He looks at Cas for a brief moment, wondering if Cas has any idea what's coming. Dean smiles as he leans in for an easy kiss before dropping to his knees.

He grips Cas' thighs tightly as he fastens his lips over the head of his cock and sucks hard. The strangled noise of surprise and arousal Cas makes goes straight to his dick, hard and throbbing in the confines of his own jeans. He pushes himself down further on Cas' cock and hums his delight as Cas' fingers twist almost painfully into his hair. He bobs easily, fluidly down Cas' length as the man slumps his weight against the door of the car, moaning loudly over Dean's name.

For that moment, Dean loves how inexperienced and newly human Cas is. He loves that no one has ever touched Cas this way before. He loves that Cas doesn't know or adhere to any sort of human conventions and just reacts to the way Dean feels around him. It's so organic and raw, and Dean fucking loves it even as Cas comes unexpectedly, filling up his mouth and throat, his voice hoarse and loud as he cries out in pleasure.

Dean swallows what he can as he pulls off of Cas to look up at him. Cas' fingers are still tangled in his hair and his knees are having difficulty supporting his weight. Dean tugs him to the floor, sitting him up against the Impala's front wheel. Cas looks at him then, his eyes heavily lidded, but he's smiling wide and brilliant and his eyes burn with satisfaction.

Cas finally drags his fingers out of Dean's hair, bringing one hand down over his cheek, swiping his thumb across Dean's lower lip – over the small drip of come that rested there unnoticed. Dean watches him, completely transfixed, as Cas brings his thumb to his lips, sucking it into his mouth thoughtfully. And if Dean assumed he couldn't possibly be more aroused, he was very, very wrong.

His dick strains painfully against his jeans as Cas explains quietly that he's never tasted come before – that he was curious. And Dean wants to stand him up, lead him back to his bedroom and fuck him into the mattress.

But Cas beats him to it, using the car to heft himself off of the ground. He holds a hand down to Dean, helping him up as well. He looks pointedly at Dean's straining jeans. "I believe I'm supposed to help you with that," he says, and he's just speaking normally, and he's not even trying to be sexy, but Dean still thinks it's the sexiest thing he's ever heard.

He flushes a bit as he tells Cas that he doesn't need to do that – that he's fine and not to worry about it. But Cas gives him a perplexed look, going so far as to tilt his head to the side in confusion as he cups Dean through his pants. Dean bites back a groan at the sensation.

"I would like to," Castiel admits frankly.

Dean blows out a hot breath across Cas' cheek and nods. When Cas begins to move to his knees, Dean grasps his wrists hard, stopping him with a shake of his head.

He leads them into the backseat of the Impala, not wanting Cas on his knees on the hard cement – not for the first time he's ever done something like this. He wants Cas to be comfortable; he'd even bring him back to his room if he weren't worried about waking Sam and Kevin in the process.

Cas wastes no time in loosening Dean's belt and unzipping his jeans as Dean sprawls out across the bench seat, his back against the door, one hand bracing him against the back of the front seat. Cas dives under the fabric of Dean's boxers and wraps a warm hand around him, stroking him languidly as he uses his free hand to attempt to slide Dean's jeans farther down his hips.

Dean lifts his ass, helping Cas rid him of his jeans and boxers. Cas settles his knees on the floor of the Impala, knocking something heavy and glass into the confines of the front seat. His chest rests against Dean's naked thighs as he wraps one hand around Dean's cock, interested and curious as he looks at it. He licks a wide stripe up its length. Dean shudders beneath him, his breath coming heavy as Cas does it again, using his free hand to curl and pluck through the hair that grows at the base of Dean's cock.

Cas explores Dean's cock with his hand and his lips, tonguing the slit and kissing the base as his fingers dance along Dean's quivering thighs and settle on his balls. Dean looks down at him, his chest heaving, noticing a small smile quirking his lips. His head rolls back, his jaw opening on a moan as Cas lowers his lips over the head of Dean's dick, swirling his tongue and sucking gently at the slit.

Cas doesn't take him deep, choosing to lavish the head with his tongue and lips and the suction of his hollowed his cheeks. Dean responds loudly, arduously, as his muscles jump and quiver. He can feel the pressure building in his abdomen, curling tighter with each swipe of Castiel's tongue. He buries a hand into Cas' hair, breathing hard.

"I'm gonna come, Cas," he pants out, trying to pull Cas away from him with the hand tangled in his hair. But Cas doesn't budge and Dean is too close to force Cas away from him and away from a mouthful of come.

Cas continues suckling and swathing his tongue across the head and Dean comes hot and hard, thrusting up into Cas' mouth deeply. Cas coughs and splutters, jerking back in surprise as Dean's dick bumps the back of his throat.

Dean slips out of his mouth almost immediately, come dripping from Cas' lips and the shaft of Dean's dick. He sits up against the window, gripping Cas' wrists and pulling him up and onto the seat between his legs.

"Sorry, Cas," he rasps out. "Didn't mean to do that."

Cas accepts the apology with a smile as he wipes up the dripping mess from his chin with his index finger, slotting it between his lips in much the same way he had done earlier.

Dean can't help but stare at him as he does it, completely blown away by how fucking hot that is.

Cas shrugs at him with an easy grin. "I enjoy that," he says simply, and Dean's pretty sure the whole universe just tilted.

Dean laughs a quiet, rumbling chuckle as he shakes his head and pulls Cas down to lay against his chest. "You are unbelievable," he mumbles into the hair at the top of Cas' head.

"Was it bad?" Cas asks, peering up at Dean curiously.

Dean laughs again, wrapping his arms around Cas' waist as he places a surprisingly tender kiss to the top of Cas' head. "Not at all, Cas."

The smile doesn't fade from his lips as he lays warm and sated with Cas falling asleep in his arms.


End file.
